


That Night in Copenhagen

by dancing_apples



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Jesse? Who's Jesse?, becommissar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_apples/pseuds/dancing_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca is wandering the halls of their hotel after the Worlds and runs into Kommissar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was after the Worlds. The party had lasted long into the night as the Bellas celebrated their final victory. But now most of the girls were in bed, pulled into sleep by exhaustion and too much craft beer and Jagerbombs. Turned out the former Bellas could really party.

But Beca couldn't sleep. It was over. Despite how ready she was for the rest of her life to begin, the Bellas had been such a big part of her life for the past four years. Though Beca would always be a Bella, everything would be different from that moment on. And it broke her heart.

Which was why Beca was roaming the halls of their hotel at some ungodly hour, while the others were passed out in comfortable beds. She wasn’t even exactly sure what floor she was on anymore. Beca didn’t think it was the one she had started on, but she’d been in kind of a daze when she had started walking. Biting her lip, Beca looked around, trying to find some kind of distinguishing marker. Or a sign that wasn’t in Danish.

"You did well," a familiar voice said, causing Beca to jump and turn sharply on her heel to face the source. Kommissar. 

(Was it really appropriate for her to call the woman 'Kommissar' when she looked like that? So completely unmade. No lipstick or leather. Or shoes. She looked almost vulnerable. Whoever she was.)

“Dude, it's three am. You can't just sneak up on people like that," Beca whispered as she tried to calm her racing heart. Oh, my god. Was she in a bathrobe? “Oh, that is so not fair. How do you still look like a goddess?”

The woman just smirked at her, closing a door behind her and advancing toward her, and Beca’s heart leapt again. This time she couldn’t blame it on being startled. Ugh, why was she so good looking? It did things to Beca’s head, and made it extremely hard to focus.

“What are you doing out here?” Beca demanded, forcing herself onto the offensive. She had to stop letting Kommissar into her head. And she had to stop moving her arms so much. Like now. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” the German replied, looking completely unfazed. “Shouldn’t you still be celebrating?”

With her hands stuffed firmly in her pockets, Beca shrugged. “Well, the party kinda stopped like an hour ago. I just needed to clear my head.”

“Is it too much for you, little mouse?” she asked, moving closer to Beca now, almost predatorial. And at that moment, Beca certainly felt like prey.

“No,” Beca said as she backed into the wall behind her. 

Kommissar’s hand came to rest against the wall near Beca’s head as she leaned in close to her. Even with bare feet, she still had at least four inches on Beca. And no respect for personal space. (But Beca didn’t really mind that much.)

“Would you like to go out with me?”

“What?” Beca asked, dumbstruck. The question had taken her completely off guard. She narrowed her eyes, unsure if she was hearing things. Or hallucinating. Because a mirage would make a hell of a lot more sense than whatever was going on.

“On a date,” Kommissar explained, her accent thick as her arms came to cross firmly across her chest. “Tonight.”

Beca laughed out loud, completely forgetting the fact that they were in a hallway in a hotel where people were trying to sleep- after all, most sane people were in bed at three in the morning- because as hallucinations or fever dreams went, this was pretty fucking insane. 

But the look on Kommissar's face- damn, she really needed to figure out this woman's name- cut her laughter short. She was hurt.

Beca’s eyes widened as she scrambled to find the words. "Oh, my god. You were serious. Were you serious?"

Now it was Kommissar's turn to laugh, though it was clearly forced. "Of course not! I was simply trying to get in your head one last time, little-" She cut herself off with a sigh and turned to leave. 

Oh, my god.

"Wait," Beca called after her, reaching out a hand and grabbing Kommissar's. When she looked over her shoulder with her eyebrow quirked, Beca quickly dropped it, her cheeks flushing scarlet. "Our flight doesn't leave until the day after tomorrow. I can do dinner. Tonight. I mean, if you want to...?" 

Kommissar looked skeptical, but turned back to face Beca, studying her face with a guarded expression. Beca started to squirm under the look, but after a few moments, a small smile was back on Kommissar’s face.

“Dinner, then. Meet me at seven in the lobby, yes?”

Beca nodded, still convinced that this was a dream, and Kommissar’s smile turned into a grin. Without another word to the stunned Beca, she headed back to what Beca supposed was her room, slipping the key into the lock and opening the door.

“Hey,” Beca said as Kommissar entered her room, a blush coming again to her cheeks as she nervously scratched the back of her neck. “I don’t actually know your name…”

“It’s Luisa,” the German woman told her, and Beca smiled widely.

“Good night, Luisa.”

“Sleep well, little mouse," Luisa said with a soft smile as she closed the door.


	2. why can't this be easy?

Dinner had gone very well- except for when Beca had stuck her elbow in her bowl of food and when Luisa had choked on a piece of shrimp- until the the waiter had come to clear their plates. She had learned things about Luisa, like how she was left handed and how she couldn't handle spicy food and that she had classical training. Beca had learned about her family and her relationship with DSM’s co-leader, Pieter. Then the waiter had broken whatever spell that had fallen over them and they were sitting in silence, neither of them entirely sure what to do. The atmosphere was suddenly very tense, and even the normally very self assured Luisa seemed at a loss.

Luisa's lipstick had worn off, and Beca couldn't help but focus on her pale pink mouth and see the vulnerability there. There was a softness to that Luisa, even despite the tense atmosphere, that Beca had only seen when they were alone. There was no trace of Kommissar there. Only Luisa.

But still Beca didn’t know what to do to break through the air of uncertainty. 

She searched for words, but something about the woman always left her tongue tied, and Beca just felt like dropping her head into her hands. Why couldn’t it just be easy?

Luisa obviously saw the distress on her face, for she stood and began to collect her things.

"It's getting late and you have an early flight. We should probably go," Luisa said, although it was obvious to Beca that she didn't want to leave, and it was only eight. But quickly, the mask of Kommissar was back in place and Beca cursed under her breath. 

"No!" Beca shouted, and Kommissar frowned at her. The patrons at the tables around them started staring at their table, so Beca took a breath before she continued in a softer voice. "No, I want you to stay."

Beca stood and moved to Luisa's side, gently taking her jacket and purse from her and hanging them back on her seat. Then she took Kommissar's hand and led her back to sit down. And even once they were both seated, Beca didn't drop Luisa's hand. They were just as soft as she remembered. 

'Breathe,' she reminded herself. Then Beca smiled softly at German woman, and the Kommissar was gone once again. Once again, it was just her and Luisa. 

"I'm really glad we’re doing this," Beca said in a rush, dropping her eyes and threading her fingers through Luisa's.

"As am I, little mouse," she replied softly, and Beca had to look back up. The smile that was on Luisa’s face made Beca’s heart soar, and that carried her the rest of the night.

\----

The evening ended with Beca pressed up against the door to the hotel room she shared with Fat Amy- with Amy and some of the other girls just on the other side- as Luisa kissed her breathless. Beca would not have expected their first kiss to start so slow and sweet, thinking that the sexual tension from their earlier encounters would have carried over. Of course, it didn’t stay that way. 

Quickly enough, Luisa was pressed up against Beca, her thigh in between Beca’s as her mouth made its way down her neck. Beca was gripping the back of the German’s jacket as her head fell back against the door, her chest heaving.

“Luisa,” Beca moaned quietly as her eyes fell shut, and Luisa chuckled lowly.

“There is only so much time before you leave for America, little mouse,” Luisa said, her accent thick and deep. “I want to make the most of it.”

“Oh, my god. You are way too good at this,” Becca said and she could feel Luisa smirk against the skin of her neck.

"Perhaps too good to continue this in the hallway,” the German mused, her lips moving slowly back up to Beca’s mouth. Her hand had worked its way under Beca’s top and her fingers were tracing meaningless patterns into the bare skin of her hip. 

Beca simply hummed, unable to form any other response as Luisa's hand travelled down the outside of her thigh. She gripped the back of Beca's knee and pulled her impossibly closer, the Bella's leg wrapping around Luisa. 

"Definitely too good," Beca gasped, pulling away for air.

Luisa chuckled and ran the tips of her fingers down Beca's cheek, her thumb trailing over her lip. 

“You should scurry away, little mouse. I would hate for you to miss your flight,” Luisa whispered before she pressed a hard kiss to Beca’s lips. Then with what appeared to be a Herculean effort, Luisa took a step back, separating them. “Try not to stay awake too long thinking of me,” Luisa smirked and Beca blushed deeply.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Beca muttered, leaning back heavily against the door and looking up at Luisa through her lashes.

"I should go to bed?" Beca said, her voice rising in pitch as she met Luisa's eyes. Without any direction, her hands reached out toward the German, her fingers itching to pull her back. 

Seeing the intent in her eyes, Luisa took a deep breath and took another step back from Beca, out of Beca's reach. "Goodbye, Beca. Pleasant dreams."

As Beca watched Luisa go, she had the feeling that her dreams were going to be very pleasant. Pleasant and filled with the scent of cinnamon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a larger response than I had ever expected. I want to say thank you to everyone who commented or gave this kudos because it really means a lot. 
> 
> This one's for kommissartrash. Good luck tonight! XO
> 
> I'm kind of working on a second chapter for 'A Funny Thing Happened At The Olympics', so here's to that.

**Author's Note:**

> I am Becommissar trash. I am not even a little bit sorry.
> 
> Credit goes to becommissar.tumblr.com for the name 'Luisa'. 
> 
> Shout out to Michaela for being such a babe and prompting me with this.


End file.
